


A New Year's Resolution

by SigmaCreations



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: F/M, Love, New Year's Resolutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SigmaCreations/pseuds/SigmaCreations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And here's my New Year's fic which I also never got to finish in time. AU one-shot set in S5 but ignoring Cotterdam; Ruth is still working on the Grid. Characters not own by me; I just like to play with them from time to time. Please review. Cheers, S.C.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Year's Resolution

The doorbell rings again and he can't help swearing in frustration as he steadies the swinging bag and grabs the towel from the bench, making his way downstairs, carefully keeping his eyes on the steps as he rubs his head and arms dry. Who the hell could be calling at this time in the morning on new year's day, he wonders as he glances at the clock in the hall, noting it's only 9 am. Surely any normal person would still be in bed, sleeping off the after-effects of the alcohol they'd imbibed last night. He rubs his face with the towel, drapes it around his neck, and disables the alarm before unlocking and opening the door.

On his doorstep, he finds the love of his life, her face slightly pink from the cold, dressed in jeans and a long white coat, the teal scarf wrapped around her neck making her eyes look even more brilliant than usual.

“Oh!” she exclaims in surprise, her eyes widening as she takes in his very informal attire. “I've interrupted you,” she stammers as her eyes drop down to his bare legs. “Sorry.”

He watches her, resisting the impulse to say something, anything to justify his current state of undress and spare her embarrassment. It's been months since she'd ended it between them after just one, and in his opinion, quite wonderful date, and though he's given her plenty of opportunities to change her mind, has offered her countless lifts home, has tried to talk to her when it's been just the two of them left on the Grid, and even invited her to lunch, dinner, and to a Royal Philharmonic Orchestra concert, she's remained stubbornly distant and aloof. So if she wants to call on him at home, on his day off, he'll be damned if he'll offer her any kind of apology for answering the door in shorts and a sweaty t-shirt.

“Did you need something, Ruth?” he asks, careful to keep his voice neutral.

“I...” she stammers, clearly trying to recover her equilibrium, her eyes still lingering on his naked legs, which, judging from the expression on her face, meet with her approval. This realisation begins to wreck havoc with his resolution to remain unaffected by her presence on his doorstep, this early on a holiday. He begins to feel desire stir in his belly as he watches her face, her eyes still checking him out, and soon he feels movement in his shorts of the kind that's destined to embarrass them both.

He's about to say something, invite her in for a cup of tea and excuse himself to go have a cold shower, when he sees that it's too late. She's noticed, her eyes widening slightly as the bulge in his shorts becomes more apparent, the nature of the material less forgiving than his suits have been on every other occasion when he's had this problem. She stares at him for a moment longer and then lifts her eyes quickly to his. He expects to see panic there or outrage, but as their gazes meet, he sees something different, something more. There's curiosity, interest, pleasure, and desire mixed in with the surprise, embarrassment, and the tiny sliver of fear.

“Harry,” she murmurs softly, but he can't take it any more. Swiftly, he reaches for her hand and pulls her over the threshold before lifting his hands to cups her face and leaning in, kissing her firmly, fully on the lips. It lasts just a few seconds before he pulls back, his hands still cradling her face as he gazes into her eyes.

He sighs, smiling softly down at her as he murmurs, “I've wanted to do that for months, Ruth.” He knows it's the adrenaline and blood still pumping through his body after his workout that's making him act like this, bold and forward, but he doesn't attempt to check himself. After all, he's tried everything else with her and it's all failed. _Perhaps it's time to turn on the charm, Harry, and just seduce her._ She hasn't slapped him yet and she doesn't look like she didn't enjoy the experience of being kissed by him. If anything she looks dazed and rather pleased, so perhaps that's why she's here anyway. _Why else would she be on my doorstep early on new year's day?_

She shivers, whether from the chilly morning air or his kiss, he's not sure but assumes the former as he releases her and takes a step back, saying, “It's cold, Ruth. Would you like to come in?” He knows his gaze is intense, but he makes no effort to gentle it, to hide the intensity of his feelings for her. There's no need for it; they're in his home, after all, not at work.

He watches her hesitate for a moment before she nods her agreement and he can't help smiling as she shyly drops her gaze, smiling softly in return. She steps further into his house and he closes and locks the door behind her before turning to face her. She's already removed her coat and scarf, and as he takes them from her hand to hang them up, he sees that she's wearing a thick, blue, somewhat baggy jumper underneath. He smiles and leads the way to the kitchen, saying, “I'd best go get changed. Make yourself at home, Ruth. I'll be right back,” before turning on his heel and disappearing upstairs.

He strips rapidly and steps under the hot water, quickly pouring some body-wash onto his palm and lathering his hair and skin, intending to be as quick as humanly possible lest she change her mind and make an escape while he's still upstairs. His thoughts linger on her, on the feel of her lips against his, the sparkle in her eyes and the blush spreading across her cheeks as he'd pulled back, hoping it's a sign that she's finally ready to explore this thing between them, this attraction that goes far beyond the physical, for him at least. Not that he can discount the physical, he realises as his body responds to the images running through his head, the mere thought of her plump, soft lips against his making him harden with want. He could ignore it and douse the flames of his desire with mundane thoughts and images as he usually does when she's near, but he's already in the shower so he opts for the easier and safer route of quickly massaging himself to climax.

It's powerful and potent, perhaps because of the fact that she's so near or the memory of their brief kiss, and it renders him a little unsteady on his feet for a few moments and he has to brace himself against the shower wall while he recovers, his heart beating fast and his breathing laboured. He doesn't waste much time like this, however, knowing that Ruth's waiting for him downstairs. Quickly he rinses himself off, turns off the shower, grabs his towel to dry himself and walks naked into his bedroom, selecting a blue shirt and some tan trousers to wear and quickly getting dressed.

 

* * *

 

She watches him disappear upstairs and almost sighs out loud in relief. She'd wanted to flee so badly just now, after he'd kissed her, and at the same time, grab hold of him and never let him go. How does he do that to her, she wonders, make her feel all these conflicting and confusing emotions any time he's near. How will she handle it at work, she thinks in a panic, if she goes through with this new year's resolution? How will they both cope with the extra layer of emotional entanglement, the changing dynamics between them? How will they find a balance?It had seemed like such a good idea this morning when she'd woken up. Alone. Again.

 _Tea, make tea_ , she tells herself as her insides begin to tie themselves in knots and the panic rises inside her. She busies herself in the kitchen, washing her hands and filling the kettle before opening various cabinets in search of tea things. It's going to be okay, she keeps repeating inside her head. _I can't back out now. I have to see this through. It's going to be okay._

She finds a tea pot and tea leaves so she opts for that, filling it with boiling water and placing it on the table before turning round to get the milk and sugar and setting the table for two. Once she's finished, she gazes at her handiwork for several moments in silence, but luckily, before her anxiety can get the better of her, she's distracted by a bark and a low whine accompanied by scratching at the back door.

Scarlet, she thinks gratefully, and moves quickly to let the dog in. She barks delightedly and slips into the room, rushing over to her water bowl to quench her thirst while Ruth closes and locks the door, a little surprised that she isn't growling at her or barking the place down to find a stranger in her home. She returns, jumping up at Ruth's leg in an effort to get some attention, and Ruth can't help falling a little in love with her. “Oh, you're lovely,” she smiles at the dog, delighted by how open and friendly a creature she seems and going over to the table to take a seat so she can stroke her. Scarlet seems delighted by the attention, frantically wagging her tail in joy and spinning around in circles in excitement. And that's how Harry finds them when he returns downstairs.

She looks up as he enters, straightening herself and looking at him a little uncertainly as she murmurs, “Sorry. I hope it's all right that I let her in. She was scratching at the back door and I-”

“It's fine, Ruth,” he smiles. “She's been out there a while now. Much longer than usual.” He crouches down to stroke his dog who's come over to greet him, clearly delighted to see him, and as she watches their affectionate interaction for a few moments, she feels a sudden stab of jealousy for the dog which she quickly squashes down, feeling a little ridiculous. _Jealous of a dog! How pathetic._

“I was surprised she didn't mind me being here,” she says, her mouth running away with her.

“Perhaps she senses how much I like you, Ruth,” he replies, making her blush and drop her gaze in confusion, thrown by the charm and gentleness of his remark.

When he'd answered the door he'd been intense and forward and sexy as hell, his presence strong and devastating to her senses, and though part of her has been dreading his return and the distinct possibility that he might try to seduce her, another part of her has really been hoping that he'll do just that, that he'll take charge of the situation and make love to her in such a way that she'll be unable to resist him. She's never had that happen to her. Ever. Her brain has always remained remarkably clear, even in the heat of passion, so she's always wondered what it would be like to completely lose control and has wished to experience it at least once in her lifetime. Until she'd met Harry, however, there'd been no one to inspire the level of physical attraction necessary for it to even be a remotely possible. Yet with Harry, anything can happen with Harry... And there in lies the rub. She wants him, but he's her boss and she's scared of what people will say. She loves him, but he's a spy, a skilled manipulator, and she's scared what he might do with the power he has over her.

She rallies quickly, lifting her eyes to his again, saying, “I would have thought that's all the more reason for her to not want me here,” thinking of her own jealousy a moment ago. _Ridiculous. Totally absurd._

He grins. “The thought probably never even crossed her mind,” he confides. “She's not much of a guard dog. She absolutely adores company of any sort.”

“Though clearly she prefers yours,” she whispers softly, watching Scarlet dance around his ankles as he moves over to the cupboard to retrieve the biscuits.

He pauses in the act of reaching up for the biscuit tin, looking over his shoulder at her as she quickly returns her gaze to the teapot, her cheeks crimson. “I hope she's not the only one,” he murmurs in reply, making her blush deepen and her heart begin to race. She doesn't reply, however, having no idea what to say. She's never been very good at this kind of thing – flirting or even having a normal conversation with a man she fancies – and with Harry it's a million times worse, his proximity and attention rendering her acutely nervous and tongue-tied. So she keeps her hands busy, lifting the teapot and pouring out their tea, adding milk and sugar to both their cups while he retrieves the biscuit tin and takes a seat opposite her. “Thanks for making the tea,” he says after taking a sip. “It's perfect.”

She almost huffs indignantly at that, lifting her eyes and giving him a look that clearly says 'Do you know who I am? Of course, it's bloody perfect' and making him smile. _That's good, Ruth. Act like your normal self. He's just another human being. You're perfectly capable of having an intelligent conversation with him. You do so every day at work._

“Happy new year, Ruth,” he murmurs, lifting his cup towards her as if he's making a toast.

“Happy new year, Harry,” she replies, giving him a small tentative smile. She's almost forgotten what day it is but, of course, that's why she's here.

“Did you go somewhere special last night?” he asks conversationally as he reaches for a biscuit, clearly trying to keep the conversation going.

She takes a sip of her tea to hide her surprise at this, at how mellow he seems all of a sudden, how relaxed and at ease when just a few minutes ago he seemed ready to devour her. “No,” she answers, adding as an afterthought, “Did you?”

“I was at work,” he shrugs, “though I did manage to escape to the roof for the fireworks.”

She nods, remembering that they do that every year, all the people on duty that night, the show being really quite good from the roof of Thames House. This is the first year she's missed it, the first year she was off the roster now that she's no longer a newbie. “I slept through them,” she confesses, trying hard not to blush.

“Did you really?” he smiles.

“I was knackered,” she explains, “so I decided that, seeing as I was home alone anyway, I might as well just go to bed.”

He nods, taking a sip of his tea before saying, “It's just another day, really, one like any other. I'm not quite sure why we make such a fuss of it.”

“I imagine it had more significance for us when we were more closely connected with nature and the seasons,” she replies thoughtfully, “when our jobs were connected to the land and our crops.” She pauses here and drops her gaze before continuing softly, “But it's also all about renewal and second chances too. A way to... start over and do better. That's why people make new year's resolutions.”

“And have you made any?” he ask quietly, almost holding his breath in apprehension and anticipation, half worried he'll send her bolting out the door at such a direct question.

She nods, still not looking at him as she toys with her cup, twisting it round and round with her fingers. He waits, sensing that this is the reason she's here this morning and that her resolution almost certainly has something to do with them and their future together, as a couple. “No regrets,” she eventually whispers. “I've decided I need to live my life without regrets.”

He smiles as she lifts her eyes to his, nodding as he murmurs, “A good resolution.” They're silent for a few moments, each taking a sip of tea before he asks, “Is that why you're here this morning?”

She nods, but doesn't say anything, so he reaches his hand across the table, gently stroking her fingers with his own a few times until she turns her hand over and clasps his tightly. “I don't want to... let this opportunity pass me by, Harry. I've been so scared of what everyone else will think that I haven't given a moment's thought to what it is _I_ want.”

“What do you want, Ruth?” he asks softly.

She lifts her head at that and looks straight at him as she says, “You. I want you, Harry.”

 

* * *

 

The directness of the statement throws him and he's unable to respond for some moments, the jumble of emotions and thoughts that her words evoke rendering him speechless. “Sorry,” she murmurs eventually after the silence stretches on for several seconds. “I thought... Never mind. I should go. Thanks for the tea.” And she begins to rise from the table, pulling her hand from his grasp.

“No!” he exclaims, making her visibly jump. “Sorry,” he apologises quickly, “but you can't go,” he objects, swiftly getting up and blocking her way to the door. “You can't just... offer me my heart's most cherished desire and then _leave_. It's not fair, Ruth.” He reaches for her hands and pulls them against his chest, pressing her palms against him as he gazes down on her, willing her to see what's in his heart.

She blinks and swallows, her fingers trembling slightly and he knows she can feel how fast his heart is beating, matching her own thundering pulse. “Most... most cherished desire?” she whispers eventually.

“Yes,” he says, watching her, seeing the doubt flit through her gaze and the hope, and feeling his heart expand with love for her. “You must _know_ how much I feel for you, Ruth,” he murmurs eventually, “how much I want you. It's been months since we had dinner together and all I can think about is you. You've kept me at arm's length, but you must _know_...” He presses her hands harder against his chest, gazing at her earnestly, willing her to see all that he cannot find the words to express.

She looks a little dazed and mesmerised, almost hypnotised by his gaze. “But,” she stammers, “why? I'm so... clumsy and-”

“You're beautiful,” he interrupts, smiling softly as he lifts his right hand to push hair back behind her ear and softly stroke her cheek. “Beautiful and kind, compassionate, brilliant, principled... but not foolish or naïve,” he adds, his voice dropping into a low rumble and a mischievous smile gracing his lips.

She smiles at that, the reminder of all they'd shared over dinner, and glances away, nodding slowly almost absently before lifting her eyes to his once more. “I'm scared, Harry,” she confesses in a small voice, her gaze so open and honest that it touches his very soul.

“I'll protect you,” he murmurs, releasing her hands and slowly drawing her into his embrace. “I promise, Ruth. I won't let any harm come to you.”

“But what if...?” she begins and tails off, and he feels her lean into him, her arms slipping round his middle.

“If what?” he asks softly, lifting a hand and threading his fingers through her hair, tilting his head forward and inhaling the flowery scent of her shampoo that's mixed in with her essence, the smell that is uniquely Ruth.

“What if you change your mind?” she whispers so quietly, he has to strain to hear her.

“I won't,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against her hair. “I promise... I can't; I've tried.”

“You've tried?” she frowns up at him, lifting her head from his shoulder.

“Of course I have,” he nods. “Haven't you tried to forget me? To move on?” She nods, biting her lip most adorably and making him want to kiss her. He slips his hand round so he can run the pad of his thumb over her skin, tracing her jaw as he murmurs, “I'll not change my mind, Ruth. I'll not tire of you or get bored. I'm not looking for... a fling; it's not about the sex, as wonderful as I'm sure it will be. I'm looking for a partner, for a life-long commitment... Scratch that. I'm not looking for anyone any more. I've found her; I've found you.” Then gently, slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wants, he lowers his lips to hers and presses a tender kiss against them.

“Harry,” she sighs when he pulls back, keeping it short and sweet. He scans her face lovingly, the depth of the love shining in her eyes taking his breath away.

“Spend the day with me,” he murmurs, cupping her face with his hands.

“I'd love to,” she smiles.

 

 

 

 


End file.
